Extreme Measures

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Damn, but the guy really was a moron to bring her here, not even three miles from the bombing site.

  Landon rubbed his aching forehead as he moved for the warehouse doors. Obviously, the dumb fuck hadn’t been thinking. But then, when it came to a woman, he wasn’t the first man to lose all common sense. Landon knew that lesson well himself. The difference was, he’d never repeat his stupidity, and after seeing Archer this morning, he knew the idiot was bound to repeat every single stupid-ass thing he’d done because of Evelyn Wolfe. Archer might not be able to see it, but Landon could. Up close and personal. The idiot was still in love with her.

  The door handle didn’t turn, but picking the lock was easy enough, and Landon was inside in a matter of minutes.

  The warehouse was cut in the middle by a long hallway and doors that led to what looked like large storage units. Uncovered, dim bulbs hung from the ceiling every twelve feet. Landon paused to listen. Hearing nothing out of the ordinary, he moved for the metal stairs that ran up to the second and third floors.

  He knew when he’d found the right loft. The steel door was cut in two, as if whoever had wanted in had used a buzz saw to get inside. Landon pushed the right side open the rest of the way and moved into the loft.

  His gaze scanned the empty room. A chair was turned over on its side. A broken table sat upside down. A metal tray and three hypodermic needles lay scattered across the floor. His gaze strayed to the bed against the far wall. To the mattress stained with blood and other things he didn’t want to focus too much on. Then to the metal handcuffs hanging from the metal headboard.

  “Stupid-ass dumb fuck,” he muttered. Oh yeah, Evelyn Wolfe had every reason to kick Archer’s ass from here to Mount Rainier, and at the moment, Landon kinda hoped she did.

  He shook his head as he turned away and looked around for the purse Archer had told him he’d brought back with him. Whatever happened between Archer and Wolfe was not his problem. The only thing he cared about was finding Wolfe’s sister. Then he was taking a monthlong vacation, and his boss Ryder could suck it if he didn’t agree.

  He checked cabinets along the wall and finally found a woman’s black purse hanging behind what had to be Archer’s denim jacket on a hook in the bathroom.

  He set the bag on the dirty counter and pawed through it until he found a cheap cell phone. He powered it on and saw a video on the home screen. His fingers hit Play, and he watched as a woman, her hands tied behind her back and her face covered by a black sack, thrashed on the floor of what looked like a van. The purple butterfly tattoo on her ankle was clearly visible as she struggled.

  There was no sound. Landon replayed it three times, looking for anything that might help him identify the van. Fury rolled through his gut. He didn’t have a problem taking down anyone who deserved it, but he had a major-ass problem when innocents were drawn into the mix. He knew that was why he’d washed out at DIA. Not because he couldn’t stomach what he was asked to do, but because he refused to do it to civilians.

  He clicked the video off and paged through the contacts. Nothing showed on the phone. He turned it in his hand and remembered Wolfe’s explanation of what had happened at that outdoor café. This was the phone her contact—Smith—had slid across the table to her.

  He tucked the phone into his pocket and resumed searching her bag, looking for another one. He finally found it—an iPhone, the most recent version—and turned it on. A white apple appeared on the screen, followed by a tropical image of a beach, hammock, and swaying palms. Apps appeared, dotting the screen. He waited until service clicked in, then hit the Phone button and paged through her recent calls. DC numbers. One he recognized belonging to Langley. Another that was labeled “Olivia Wolfe.” And a few blocked calls he’d have to try.

  He hit Close and scrolled back to the home screen to look through her messages. The one at the top was from another blocked number.

  BLOCKED NUMBER: 2:00 p.m. You have the location. Bring the envelope. Don’t be late.

  “Bingo,” Landon muttered.

  He was just about to hit Dial when his cell buzzed. Tugging it from his pocket, he held it up to his ear. “Miller.”

  “It’s Marley. I have some information on Wolfe’s sister.”

  Landon grabbed the purse and moved out of the bathroom, back into the main portion of the loft. “Let’s hear it.”

  “She’s a drama teacher in Boise. Has worked at one of the local high schools for about five years. She was last seen four days ago at a Mexican restaurant downtown with a man named Karl Stetson, a teacher at the same school where she works.”

  “What does he teach?”

  “Biology, physics, chemistry. Claims he drove her home after what was—by his words—an uneventful date, and two men jumped them when he pulled into her drive.”

  “Did he get a look at either of them?”

  “Not really. Said they were big. Dark-skinned. He described them as either Hispanic or Middle Eastern. And they were speaking a language he didn’t recognize.”

  Landon frowned. “Observant, isn’t he?”

  “It’s not his most charming quality,” Marley muttered, “trust me. According to his story, they snagged Olivia Wolfe, roughed him up a little, and then let him go. And here’s what has me all warm and gooey for the guy. He didn’t report her abduction to the cops for a full twenty-four hours.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Yeah, well. There are a lot of them out there. I should know. Ask me about my last date sometime. Anyway, Stetson claims they threatened him, but I got the impression he just didn’t want to get involved.”

  Landon clenched his jaw. “Someone needs to abduct his ass.”

  “I agree, but he’s not our problem. Cops are handling him. Did you find Archer?”

  Landon looked out the broken window toward the fire escape. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of? What does that mean?”

  “It means Ryder isn’t going to like what’s coming next. Listen, Marley, I need a favor.”

  “I’m here to help.”

  “I need to know who at the State Department has it in for Aegis. Evelyn Wolfe hinted that the raid in Guatemala was a setup, and Aegis was the target. I need you to do some digging, without Ryder knowing.”

  “Why can’t Jake know?”

  “Because if what Wolfe said is accurate, then Ryder was the target, not Humbolt. And if that’s the case, I’m thinking it’s possible that blaming this whole bombing in Seattle on Archer is a setup too, not to take him down per se, but to get at Ryder. You and I both know Ryder’s pissed off more people in Washington than he should have. What better way to guarantee Aegis doesn’t score another defense contract than to charge their operatives with treason?”

  “Don’t you think that’s a stretch?”

  “I worked for the Pentagon. Trust me, sugar. Nothing’s a stretch.”

  “Okay,” Marley said. “I’ll see what I can find out. I still don’t understand why Jake can’t know, though.”

  “Because whether I’m right or wrong, it’ll just get him fired up, and he’ll start making calls. And if someone at the State Department finds out Aegis is asking questions about black ops, they’ll clam up. Or worse, leak shit to the press. Ryder’s not exactly a people person.”

  Marley huffed. “You can say that again.”

  Landon smiled. Marley was a saint. She really was. Ryder didn’t realize the gold mine he had in her. Landon just hoped she didn’t get fed up with Ryder at some point and walk away from the company. Because if she did, Ryder would lose more than just his right hand. He’d lose the majority of his operatives, who’d follow her anywhere if she asked. Him included. “Thanks.”

  “Okay, my turn to ask you a question. Is Archer okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine.”

  “Is he with Evelyn Wolfe?”

  Landon hesitated, then figured the more Marley knew, the longer she could keep Ryder in the dark. “Yes. And neither’s killed the other yet, so I think we’re safe.�
�

  “That doesn’t leave me feeling all tingly inside.”

  “That’s why you get the joy of dealing with people like Karl Stetson on a daily basis.”

  Marley laughed. “Okay, point taken. So, tell me this, smart guy. If you’re no longer tracking Archer, what are you doing?”

  “Looking for her sister. Something tells me Olivia Wolfe knows a hell of a lot more about what’s going on here than anyone else.”

  “And Archer and Evelyn Wolfe?”

  “Running down other leads. Wolfe’s security clearance with the CIA has been revoked. It’s only a matter of time before her name shows up in the press as being linked to the bombing as well.”

  “Fabulous. Just watch your six. My gut says there’s more going on here than meets the eye.”

  Marley’s gut was usually right. And on this one, Landon agreed. He looked back out at the water again. “Speaking of . . . if Ryder ever fires you, you’ve got a freebie from me. I wouldn’t mind being the one to take that bastard out.”

  “He’s your boss.”

  “That’s never stopped me before.”

  Marley chuckled, then sighed. “Firing me isn’t the worst thing he could do to me.” Her voice strengthened. “I’ll call you as soon as I have news.”

  Eve stood near a rack of workout pants in Macy’s while Archer paid for new clothes for both of them. She glanced around the quiet store in the middle of the afternoon in Everett as her pulse ticked up another notch.

  Come on, come on, come on . . .

  The young girl behind the counter was the slowest clerk ever. And either exhaustion was finally settling in, or Eve’s blood sugar was at an all-time low, because her patience was nearly at the breaking point.

  Archer pocketed the change, said thank you, and took the bags. He was careful to keep his ball cap pulled low so his face was shadowed, but Eve’s gaze strayed to the ceiling and the security cameras for the hundredth time, then darted toward the doors where a security guard stood still as a gargoyle.

  She didn’t like the way the guy kept glancing in her direction. Just her luck they’d get a GI Joe wannabe. An ambitious rent-a-cop was the last thing they needed right now.

  Archer moved next to her and placed a hand at the small of her back, right over the Glock nestled in the waistband of her skirt, then herded her toward the exit. “Relax. That girl had no idea who I was.”

  The guard near the door stiffened as they approached, and Eve had a vision of everything going straight to the shitter, all because Archer had left his supply bag in a locker near an ice-skating rink instead of somewhere more easily accessible and out of sight of the public.

  She turned quickly, wrapped her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, and tugged him into her. “Baby, I’m not done shopping yet. I want those crotchless panties you promised me.”

  Archer’s eyes widened, just a touch, and Eve rose up on her toes and kissed him. Then she mumbled against his lips, “That security guard has got his eye trained right on you.”

  Archer wrapped the arm holding the shopping bags around her back and tugged her in tight. Then he smiled and said, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” before pressing his mouth to hers.

  It was an act. Eve knew it was an act. But oh man, the guy could kiss. He pushed her lips apart, then dipped inside for a wicked taste. And tingles shot straight to Eve’s core as soon as his slick, hot tongue touched hers.

  She arched into him, tangled her fingers in the fabric of his T-shirt, and kissed him back while her mind replayed what they’d done this morning. Behind her, the security guard sighed. The door opened and closed, and voices bounced off the store walls, but Eve was suddenly too light-headed to care.

  Minutes passed—or maybe it was only seconds; she couldn’t be sure, since her brain seemed to short out every time Archer kissed her—and then he eased back. A twinkle lit up his hazel eyes when he smiled down at her. “Crotchless panties? Oh baby, I’m all over that. Come on.”

  He let go of her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her back to the middle of the store, then turned down the aisle that led to lingerie. A quick glance over her shoulder told Eve the security guard was no longer watching them and had moved on to staring at another man, lurking near a display of men’s belts.

  Eve followed Archer into the lingerie section and glanced around. Another security guard—this time a woman—was walking through this end of the store, but her gaze skipped right over them as if they weren’t even there.

  “These?” Archer held up a pair of black boy-short panties, open along both hips, with crisscrossed ties holding them together.

  Eve’s brow lowered. “For you? I doubt they’d fit.”

  Archer picked up a second pair from the table display—this one in red. “I can’t wait to see you in these.”

  He pulled her toward another register, and Eve’s adrenaline kicked up again—but this time not from being caught. “Hold on. I was kidding about the panties.”

  “I wasn’t.” He set their bags on the floor, pulled cash out of his wallet, and slapped it on the counter, careful to keep his head tipped down so the clerk couldn’t see his face. Not that she would notice even if he looked right at her. The girl was barely eighteen and bored out of her mind. The place could probably get robbed and she’d barely notice.

  She bagged the panties, then handed Archer the receipt. “Thanks for shopping at Macy’s,” she said in a monotone voice, without even looking their way.

  Archer took the bag and muttered thanks, then herded Eve toward the unguarded exit. “Friendly girl.”

  “I’m not wearing those,” Eve said as they stepped out of the store and moved into the parking garage.

  “You were right.” Archer nodded up toward the ramp. “You need underwear. Should have thought of it when we were grabbing new clothes.”

  “Not those kind,” Eve huffed. “I was just trying to fool the security guard.”

  Archer shot her a wicked grin. “I bet you’ll look totally hot in these.”

  They stopped behind a Ford Taurus parked on the third level, and Eve crossed her arms over her chest while he opened the trunk. “Well, then you’ll lose the bet, because I’d rather go commando than wear those.”

  That spark flared in his eyes all over again as he glanced sideways at her. “Oh, baby. Stop talking like that or you’re gonna make me hot.”

  Eve’s skin grew warm, and she glared at him under the orange parking lights. Why was she letting him get to her? The Archer she remembered had a wicked sense of humor, and it was clear he was just razzing her like he’d once done. And she’d obviously started this by kissing him as a cover, so she needed to suck it up and deal with it. So why was she feeling so . . . frustrated and out of sorts?

  It wasn’t because of this morning. She wouldn’t let it be. Yeah, they’d screwed each other in a moment of complete insanity, but life-and-death situations often pushed people to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do. They’d both been trained on the effects of adrenaline, and she was smart enough not to fall into the relationship trap again anyway—any kind of relationship for her was a dead end. So that’s not what this was about.

  He closed the trunk and turned toward her. And a frown cut across his lips when he said, “Relax. There are security cameras out here too, you know.” Then he moved in close and rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “You’ve still got some dirt or blood there from earlier.”

  Warmth spread across her cheek where he touched her and shot a wicked blend of heat and need straight to her abdomen. And in an instant, she knew what was bothering her. Not just the fact he was staying and helping her. Not even the fact he’d admitted earlier that he cared. What was freaking her out was this feeling growing in the center of her chest, the same one she’d had in Beirut and which had ultimately caused her to walk—no, run—away from him the first time. This sense of security telling her she could have this. That there could be more. That if she reached out and just took, she could have him and everything she’d
stopped wanting so long ago.

  The air clogged in her lungs, and the walls seemed to close in around her. Turning away from his touch, she moved around the side of the car and reached for the passenger door. “We need to go.”

  She felt him looking after her, wondering what the hell was up with her, even after she climbed into the car and closed the door, but she didn’t care. As she breathed deep and tried to steady her racing pulse, she reminded herself that crazy thoughts like that were the reason she’d ended up with a broken heart in the first place. And she wasn’t going back there again. Some people weren’t meant for happily ever after, and she’d learned long ago that she was one of them.

  Archer climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door, and she steeled her nerves and looked his way. “I need to call ADD Roberts.”

  He started the car and glanced into the rearview mirror. “I want you to wait until we hear back from Carter.”

  They both trusted Carter. When someone put his life on the line—like Carter had done for both of them more than once in Beirut—it solidified that trust. Eve knew Carter would do whatever he could to help them, but she didn’t believe that about the organization he—and she—worked for.

  “Carter isn’t going to be able to help us the way Roberts can.”

  He backed out of the parking spot and shoved the car into drive. “And what if Roberts is in on all of this?”

  “In on what? This conspiracy you’ve cooked up?”

  He frowned sideways at her as they wound through the parking garage. “Someone leaked my name to the press. Someone sent a wet team after us. And your security clearance has been revoked. I think it’s safe to say I don’t have to cook anything up.”

  She looked out the front windshield and frowned herself. None of this made sense. “You yourself said that wet team probably wasn’t government sanctioned. There could be a logical explanation.”

  “Yeah. That the Agency wants us both dead.”

  Archer’s cell phone rang before Eve could tell him he was higher than a kite. He glanced at the screen, then lifted it to his ear. “Dude. Tell me this is a secure line and that you have good news.”